Day of Days

Tuesday was pretty eventful for me. Nothing like a Band of Brothers episode, but I was on the move constantly and making things happen. I think what made it stand out in my eyes is the fact that it's a good example of what's becoming a "typical" workday for me.

Mornings are usually a madhouse from about 0700 until sometime around 1030 or so. Basic Platoon Sergeant business: checking accountability on your guys, ensuring an accurate morning report, checking that the barracks Duty NCOs are posted and relieved, responding to taskers from the Battalion or the Company Commander... it all just turns into a non-stop hit parade most mornings.

That afternoon, the Battalion Executive Officer (XO) bought me a Pepsi... then proceeded to announce to the entire Company that I'd won a bet with him about a specific aspect of uniform regulations. He then shook the bottle furiously and handed it over, giving me a pat on the back and a handshake. I'm not sure if the announcement won me respect from anyone, but every Marine in the building damn sure knew about it.

An hour or so later, we had a celebrity visitor drop by (which isn't as rare as you'd think). John Mayer played in Raleigh last night, and had contacted the Public Affairs office here to see if he could make an unannounced, low-key visit Tuesday to meet some wounded and injured Marines to thank them for their sacrifice and just hang out for an hour or so. Personally, I haven't really heard any of his music, but I did recognize his name. Apparently he's pretty popular, because there were MANY Marines and others from outside the Battalion that mysteriously appeared just before he showed up.

Right after he arrived, one of the Sergeants who was playing tour guide for him and his crew named me specifically as one of the platoon sergeants who takes care of the Marines and runs the Company daily. I shook John's hand, talked to him for a bit, and later answered a couple of his questions about different wounds and injuries that many of my Marines have. He seemed genuinely interested, and even asked if we had a unit t-shirt he could get hold of. 45 seconds later, after an NCO had magically located one in his size and given it to him, he was smiling like it was Christmas. He read the back of it - a helmeted skull and crossed crutches with the words "Sweat dries, blood clots, bones heal, chicks dig scars" - and joked that next time he slept with a supermodel, he'd wear it. At least the guy has a sense of humor!

Later that afternoon, we secured the Company and I went back to my barracks room to unwind a bit and grab some dinner. Just as I arrived at the SNCO Club and ordered a gigantic greasy burger, my Company Commander called. One of my Sergeants (call him Sgt C.), who was in a call-in patient status due to the strength of his medications, had apparently showed up drunk for an appointment that morning. Later in the afternoon, he missed a different appointment altogether. Already, alarm bells were ringing. I like C. a lot, and when he first checked in he struck me as a good to go Marine who wanted to take care of himself and make a full recovery. I was also concerned since his medical issues are all psychological, and VERY deep.

Cutting to the chase, by the time I'd tracked him down an hour later, he was on his way to the Naval Hospital in a Sheriff's car. He'd tried to check himself into a civilian rehab facility because he's been drinking a LOT more than usual over the past two weeks, as well as acting out some. The drinking ramped up right after his doctor yanked all the meds out from under him, and a close friend eventually convinced him to check himself into rehab. As soon as they heard the "S" Word at the civilian facility, the slapped a court order on him mandating his admission to Naval Hospital. I'd known that C. was going through a really rough patch - he's called me just to talk a few times, and he told me about a setback he had a week or two ago - but I still felt like I'd let him down by not being there sooner. Staying there with him in the ER for a few hours didn't count for shit in my book, because I might have been able to help if I'd taken that time days or weeks earlier. At least that's how I view it.

He's a good Marine, and he's even told me that he really would love to get back to his unit and deploy again because "they're my boys, you know?". I believe him when he says that, and what's more, I actually trust him. I know I can't help him work through his issues - frankly, I don't want to. That's not my job, and something that will take a LOT of time and effort. But C., this total Southie from Boston who loves his Harley, rides in a motorcycle club, and has been through God knows what in the past four years... I think he trusts me as well. To me, that's more important than what questions are asked about how this happened, who dropped the ball, or why he wound up doing what he did.

Someday, I really do hope that someone figures out how to treat severe PTSD effectively. When that happens, I will go to the ceremony in Sweden in full battle rattle and jack someone's Nobel Prize at gunpoint so I can award it to that guy. If modern medical science can ever crack the code on that one, millions of veterans from the past forty years or so could regain control of their lives. Friends and loved ones who feel the second- and third-order effects of PTSD would have a great burden lifted off their shoulders as well. Sadly, this is one rare problem that I can bitch about all day long and still not even begin to propose a solution for, and I hate that.

I got back from the ER around 2200, changed back into utilities, and made my rounds as Officer of the Day. I went through the motions, toured my assigned areas, filled out my logbook, and got back to the crib around 2300. Even then, C. was still on my mind. Since that night, nobody in my chain of command has even asked me for a detailed explanation (I briefed my Captain on the phone as events unfolded), much less questioned my actions as a leader over what went down with Sgt C. Maybe I'm seeing a problem where there really is none... but if nothing else, I know I've learned a valuable lesson and I thank God that he's getting some help instead of face down in a ditch somewhere.

If there is such a thing, I guess sometimes I care way too much about my Marines.


Quotation of the Moment: "If you ever get bored with your life, try risking it." - Albert Camus

Song of the Moment: "Medication" (acoustic) - Garbage